Chuck Versus the Listening Devices
by lu.chan93
Summary: In episode 6, Chuck Versus the Sandworm, Chuck finds listening devices in his room. What they don't tell you is that talking about sandwiches isn't the only punishment Casey will have to endure... Chuck/Casey slash. M for a reason.
1. Discovered

NOTE: This is my first submission to FF! I was watching episode 6 of season 1, and I got inspired. Casey/Chuck has been my favorite pairing since the beginning. Anyway, please comment and let me know what you think! It's probably crap, but you gotta start somewhere, right?

Warning: Graphic sexual description, male/male couple. As one of my fave fanfic authors says, "If you have to ask if you'll be offended, you probably will."

Please, please, leave me a comment and let me know what you liked/didn't like. It's the only way I can grow as a writer! Thanks for those who have/will fave(d) my story! It means a lot.

Enjoy!

_From now on, you should trust your handlers _precisely_ as much as they trust you._

Laszlo's words rang in Chuck's head as the door swung shut behind him. He began his search at the front door, starting with the pumpkin decoration his sister had set out on the table where he always set his keys. Finding nothing there, he looked around the painting that hung on the wall above that table, then walked the two feet to the couch and pushed the pillows aside. His search still coming up empty, Chuck began looking in less orthodox places, like inside lightbulbs. An idea occurred to him, and he lifted up the lamp on the table beside the bland couch. A sickening feeling began in his stomach as he spotted a little circular object in a corner of the lamp. He set his keys down with a disbelieving thud and pulled the device from the cold metal it was attached to.

_They really bugged my apartment?_ Chuck thought angrily. No wonder Laszlo was so paranoid. He resumed his frantic search, finding another device in the house phone, and yet another concealed in the sconce in his bathroom. He strode purposefully over to his drawers and threw the bugs down in disgust, when his eyes alit on the picture Sara gave him. His stomach squeezed painfully at the thought, but he somehow knew that it wasn't just to sell their cover. Hesitantly, he popped the back off the frame, and surprise, surprise, he found yet another small bug on the corner of the back of the frame. Anger and betrayal building up inside him hotly, he stormed out of his room and set a determined place for a certain NSA agent's apartment.


	2. Confronted

Warning: Graphic sexual description, male/male couple. As one of my fave fanfic authors says, "If you have to ask if you'll be offended, you probably will."

Please, please, leave me a comment and let me know what you liked/didn't like. It's the only way I can grow as a writer! Thanks for those who have/will fave(d) my story! It means a lot.

Enjoy!

A very annoying rapping on his door alerted Casey that he had a visitor. He yanked the door open after tightening his bathrobe, and before he could growl a "what the hell do you want," Chuck threw a fistful of listening devices in his face.

"What the hell are these?" Chuck demanded angrily, striding further into Casey's apartment before he'd even shut the door. He barely took in the fact that Casey had on a bathrobe, and his broad chest filled the material entirely. Well, not consciously.

"It seems you already know, Chuck," Casey responded drily, giving Chuck an amused once-over. The younger man was disheveled and flushed, his eyes dark with anger. An image of a stark naked Chuck with kiss-bruised lips lying in his bed with much the same manner flashed through Casey's mind, and his cock stirred below his robe belt. Luckily, Chuck cut him off before his thoughts could continue.

"I can't _believe_ you've been prying into my most intimate moments- You know what, I swear to god, if I found out you've been spying on my sister, I will kill you, Casey." Casey, however, was caught on the earlier part of Chuck's sentence- with a sadistic grin.

"Intimate moments," Casey deadpanned. "Not really an issue thus far…" He couldn't resist turning around to check Chuck's reaction to his jibe. "At least not in the traditional two-person intimacy."

Chuck responded with a childish face and a mocking laugh, but not before Casey clocked the darkening of his eyes and the slight flush that crept to his cheeks.

"Do you have any idea how violated I feel right now?" Chuck snapped, Casey's calm demeanor pissing him off further than he already was. Not to mention that the thought of Casey listening to his one-person intimate moments… that thought already had Chuck's jeans tightening around him.

"_You_ feel violated?" Casey snorted. "No, no, no. My _ears_ feel violated, 'cause I already have to listen to you and that _moron_ Morgan yammering on for _four hours_ about what _sandwich_ you're going to take if you're stranded on a deserted island." At each enunciation- which was more of a growl, really- he took half a step toward Chuck. He saw Chuck unconsciously take stock of Casey's alpha presence, and backed off a few steps without even realizing it.

"What are you nuts? No one was talking about a sandwich for four hours. Come on," Chuck protested in disgust, resuming his pacing. To prove his point, Casey reached over and keyed up the listening device playback. They both listened to a recorded Chuck voicing his disapproval of mayonnaise, and Morgan wanting to bring a Jessica Alba sandwich.

"Well," Chuck shrugged, admitting defeat, "I'll have you know, I stand by my mayonnaise theory, and you're still a giant _douche_ for spying on me like that." Casey internally bristled at the younger man's challenge of his authority. Something must have shown in his eyes, because Chuck seemed to shrink a few inches.

"Well, if it's any comfort, Chuck," Casey replied in a voice that only betrayed slight humour, "we planted those bugs to _protect_ you." A thought dawned on him as he looked Chuck up and down, his disheveled appearance again provoking less than T-rated thoughts about the scrawny nerd. "How did _you_ find the surveillance, anyway?"

"Oh, a little birdie named Laszlo told me," Chuck admitted, unconsciously shifting his weight under Casey's ardent stare.

"_What?_ You contacted Laszlo and didn't tell me?" Casey hissed, and Chuck had to fight against himself cringing.

"I'm sorry, Casey, did I _violate your trust_?" Chuck spat in return, his anger returning with a rush. Casey's eyes flashed with anger, but he backed down, seeing the kid's point.


	3. Toyed with

Warning: Graphic sexual description, male/male couple. As one of my fave fanfic authors says, "If you have to ask if you'll be offended, you probably will."

Please, please, leave me a comment and let me know what you liked/didn't like. It's the only way I can grow as a writer! Thanks for those who have/will fave(d) my story! It means a lot.

Enjoy!

Chuck grinned at the thought of Casey suffering through the extra 4+ hours he put him through sandwich talk. Again. It was well past midnight now, and Morgan had gone home early, in remarkably better spirits than he arrived. The party cleanup went by quickly, with the help of Ellie and Mr. Awesome, as well as Morgan himself. He leaned back against his pillows, sure that Casey was reclined in his office chair with a pair of headphones on, listening to the bugs in his house. A brilliant, but dirty, idea occurred to him. An idea that had his cock stirring in his pants. He flashed back to confronting Casey in his bathrobe. It was all Chuck could do to stop himself from begging Casey to take him right there, against the wall, on the couch, anywhere. But Chuck knew self-restraint. He knew patience. He knew how good it would have felt for the older man to have used his rippling muscles to assert his dominance over Chuck. That thought alone made him throb with need. That smooth, yet growly voice moaning in his ear… telling him what to do, where to assert more pressure, where to lessen it, where to touch, where to dig his nails in. It was weird; Chuck had never really thought about Casey like that, although he secretly admired (and was jealous of) the man's prominent masculinity. A wiry guy like him could never look like that. Rippling muscles with a barely contained power, like a tiger coiled, ready to pounce. The thought of Casey with his pupils blown out in the dark, descending on his prey (Chuck) with the grace of the great feline had Chuck's erection quickly hardening. The man was just so... _masculine._

A moan slipped unbidden from Chuck's mouth, and he could practically see Casey jumping at the sudden sound, then keying up the volume in Chuck's room. "Mmmmm," he sighed, rubbing absentmindedly against his member through his boxers as he pictured his handler listening to Chuck pleasure himself. He had to throw out his reel quickly, or Casey would surely shut the feed off in disgust… or would he? "Casey," Chuck breathed, his rubbing becoming a little more organized. A few moments later, and he pushed his boxers to his knees, sucking in a gulp of air as his throbbing member was confronted with the sudden change in temperature. He wasn't deterred long; he had an audience to entertain. A dab of precum had already moistened his tip, and Chuck used it to slicken his shaft, letting out an occasional moan here and there.

When he wrapped his fingers around his cock and began to slowly pump himself, a groan escaped his lips. He pictured what Casey could be doing while listening to this- remarkably similar to his own ministrations- and a shudder ran through him, tearing the agent's name from his lips again, more loudly. Images began flashing through his head- Casey, buried deep inside him; Casey, with his mouth around Chuck's cock; Casey, breathing raggedly and moaning Chuck's name. Chuck's hand sped up, and his feet dug into the sheets as he cried out Casey's name again. It tasted delicious on his tongue, and he was sure that the man himself wouldn't disappoint. The agent smelled divine, a heady mixture of vanilla and something that was uniquely masculine, alpha, and _Casey._ The ghost of it filled his nostrils, and he imagined Casey thrusting, so thick, filling Chuck up completely. His head fell back as his balls tightened.

"Casey, oh god," Chuck groaned, pumping relentlessly. His release was near. "It feels so good, Casey," he cried, and with one more cry of his handler's name, Chuck came hard, groaning as his come landed on his chest and hand. He lay there, surprised at the power of his release, and let his breathing settle before reaching for a tissue to clean up. Pulling his boxers back up, Chuck got to his feet and pulled a bathrobe on, tying it haphazardly. He had the distinct feeling he was going to get a visitor.

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**(to be continued)**


	4. Owned

Not even five minutes after Chuck had found his release thinking about _John Casey_, said NSA agent rapped on Chuck's window with an almost shattering force. Chuck reached over to open it, but before he could Casey shouldered his way in, stepping over the low wall. He grabbed a fistful of Chuck's shirt and growled, "What the _hell_ was that, Bartowski?"

Chuck tried to sputter a response but was cut off as Casey roughly shoved him through the window and dragged him into his own apartment. As the NSA agent slammed the door behind him, Chuck took in his appearance with fearful eyes- and noticed that Casey was unreasonably _hard_ under that tan bathrobe. He smirked before his attacker turned on him with eyes darkened with anger, frustration, and… _lust._ A shiver chased down Chuck's spine. _If _Casey didn't kill him in the next five minutes, this situation might be salvageable. Before he could continue that train of thought, Chuck found himself several inches off the floor with Casey's forearm crushing his windpipe. His hands wildly scrabbled at the larger man's grip, but to no avail.

"_What_," Casey ground out again, more slowly, with a dangerous tone that send another shiver skittering through Chuck, "the hell… was _that?" _He emphasized his final word by digging his arm further into Chuck's throat.

"Casey," he gasped, his face turning red as he struggled, "you're hurting… the Intersect." Chuck was unceremoniously dumped on the floor as Casey let go. He massaged his throat tenderly, looking up at the man towering over him with wary eyes. He seemed to be waiting for a response, but when Chuck just continued to stare up at him- he got distracted by Casey's rippling muscles, barely contained, and the hungry look in his eye- Casey grunted in disgust and walked back over to his recliner, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a shotglass before plopping down with another grunt. When it was clear Casey was going to ignore him, Chuck got up and walked over to the recliner, standing to the side awkwardly.

"If you're not going to answer my question, I've got nothing to say to you, Bartowski," Casey growled at Chuck without looking at him as he knocked back a shot of whiskey. A few drops remained on his lower lip, and Chuck was mesmerized as he watched Casey's tongue dart out to capture those beads of moisture. He found himself imitating the gesture, wishing it were Casey's lip he was licking. On a whim, a dangerous whim, Chuck put his hands on either side of Casey's head, stifling a yelp of surprise as the recliner shot backwards. He found himself in John Casey's lap, pinned down by the feel of Casey's rock-hard dick pressing into his thigh, and the man's dark eyes which had locked on his with surprise, and an undercurrent of animalistic _need_. Chuck decided that this probably wasn't a good idea, but it was a bit too late for that.

"You know _exactly_ what that was, Casey," Chuck murmured, fighting the urge to nibble on Casey's earlobe, settling for ghosting his lips across the man's jaw. A shudder ran through the agent, and Chuck felt heat pouring from the man whose lap he was astride. This recliner was perfect, really; his thighs fit perfectly around Casey's.

"Bartowski," Casey growled roughly, "what are you-" His thought was cut off as the thinner man latched his mouth onto Casey's skin just below his right ear. His sentence derailed into a ragged groan that made Chuck throb with desire, and his hand unconsciously came up to squeeze Chuck's thigh as he bit gently into Casey's flesh.

Thus far, Chuck was intensely surprised Casey hadn't shoved him off his lap and shot him. Ascertaining that there were no guns in sight, he decided to push his luck a little bit further.

"You're not a stupid man, Casey," Chuck whispered with the larger man's earlobe between his teeth, enjoying the moan Casey tried to pass off as a grunt. "I would have thought it was fairly obvious what 'the hell' that was."

"How much of it did you fake?" Casey managed to rasp, through the feel of Chuck's tongue tracing the cartilage of his ear, sucking on the hollow of his throat, nipping gently at his Adam's apple.

"Only the first time I called your name," came Chuck's reply as he hovered his mouth centimeters above his handler's, his hand ghosting down the broad plane of Casey's chest underneath the now half-untied robe. Another jagged moan, ill-concealed as a shaky breath, forced its way from Casey's throat as Chuck's warm hands drifted toward precarious zones. Before he could talk himself out of it, Casey claimed Chuck's mouth in a scorching, demanding kiss. He bit Chuck's lip firmly, and when those lips parted to let out a moan, his tongue granted itself entry. Casey took his time exploring Chuck's mouth, nipping at his tongue and memorizing the flavor. From the moment their lips touched, Chuck was under no impression that he was the dominant party. That role was clearly filled by the bulky man below him who was winding his fingers almost painfully into Chuck's dark curls, drawing him even closer, until he was almost flush against the man's broad chest. Casey pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss so suddenly that Chuck's head was sent reeling. Their eyes met, and Chuck's pulse skittered. The normally bright azure was almost jet black, darkened by desire.

"What do you want, Bartowski?" Casey rumbled, and Chuck sat up, his eyes flashing with hurt.

"Well, I thought that would have been fairly obvious," he replied as he carefully disentangled himself from the recliner. His cheeks flushed with desire, and now shame, he beat a hasty retreat. "I-I'm sorry, this was a mistake."

Chuck hadn't had his hand on the doorknob for a second when he was suddenly lifted up and pushed flat against the wall, Casey between his legs- which were now dangling in the air, supported by Casey's strong, muscular arms. His arms automatically went around the larger man's shoulders, even as his neck was being assaulted with kisses and bites and not-so-gentle sucks.

"What do you want, Bartowski?" Casey repeated in that same low rumble against his collarbone before sucking on it forcefully, bringing a surprised moan to Chuck's lips. "You're going to have to tell me what you want."

"I- I want- I-" Chuck couldn't manage to string a coherent sentence together, as Casey had somehow managed to get his robe untied and was now paying fervent attention to Chuck's already hardened nipples with a scorching tongue. "Oh god," was all he could manage as Casey bit down, the pain mixing with the pleasure deliciously.

"Tell me," Casey ordered gruffly, even as he squeezed Chuck's ass through his boxers with dexterous, calloused fingers that made Chuck gasp at the texture.

"I want- I," Chuck sputtered, still unable to think clearly, until Casey stopped all ministrations. Chuck whimpered in protest before managing, "I want you to touch me, Casey."

"Where?" He asked, still not touching Chuck anywhere.

"God," Chuck ground out in frustration. "Anywhere, everywhere, I don't _fucking care_." Another whimper escaped him as Casey's hot tongue caressed his ear while his calloused hands were sliding down Chuck's chest. Anticipation made him throb with need, and he cried out as Casey rubbed his stiff erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. His hips bucked as he practically whined for more contact, but Casey squeezed his hips to hold him still. When that large hand dipped under his boxers and those rough fingers wrapped around the length of him, he nearly came right then.

"Easy, Bartowski," Casey growled. "We're just getting started." He almost laughed as Chuck's head rolled back against the wall with a loud thud. His lips parted and he let out a long moan that increased in pitch and finished with a curse as Casey slowly pumped him. Every time that rough thumb brushed the head of Chuck's cock, his hips bucked involuntarily and he moaned. Casey wasn't gentle, and the friction of it was delectable. Soon, Chuck's mantra became a cacophony of "CaseyCaseyCasey," "Ohshitohshitohshit," and "fuckfuckfuckfuck_fuck_." That was when Casey wasn't waging war in Chuck's mouth with his tongue.

"Chuck," Casey grunted between kisses and bites, "come." The command made Chuck throb, and Casey pumped him so fast he thought he'd go insane. He felt the pressure building; he was so _fucking close_, when Casey pulled back and set Chuck on his feet. He was too disoriented by his near miss to realize that Casey was now on his knees in front of Chuck. "_Bartowski!_" Casey barked, and Chuck's eyes flew open and locked on the other man's gaze in surprise. There wasn't any more time for surprise because before he realized it, Casey's mouth was entirely around his cock. The sudden wet _heat_ of him was too much for Chuck, and he cried out Casey's name as orgasm ripped through him, his seed filling Casey's mouth in spurts. With a suck that already had Chuck semi-hard again, Casey cleaned Chuck's shaft before getting to his feet and swallowing every last drop. Chuck's mouth flew open in surprise and his erection sprang back to life at the sight of John Casey licking his lips. _So fucking hot_, he thought incoherently.

"Well that was…" Chuck trailed off, unable to find an adjective for "best orgasm ever." Casey grinned, a primal, toothy grin that sent a shudder down Chuck's spine.

"Oh, we're just getting started, Bartowski," his handler replied, and before he knew it, Chuck was flat on his back on the floor. Swept with desire again, he grinned as Casey descended on him. He decided hen that he needed to get payback like this more often.

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